Only Human
by Marblez
Summary: In a small, run down house in the town of Beacon Hills lives a boy who is only human. A boy who has lost everything he ever loved. A boy who was in the right place at the right time and managed not only to save a life but to finally make some real friends and, you know, save the whole town. His name? Isaac Lahey. Warnings – Violence, Language, AU/Canon-Divergence, Child Abuse
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer –** Big surprise, I know, but I don't own anything. Unless I end up creating some OC's which may or may not happened depending on how I feel but if so I do own them…

 **Summary –** In a small, run down house in the town of Beacon Hills lives a boy who is only human. A boy who has lost everything he ever loved. His mother. His brother. His father. No, his father wasn't dead but he certainly wasn't the same man he had once been. A boy who was in the right place at the right time and managed not only to save a life but to finally make some real friends and, you know, save the whole town. His name? Isaac. Isaac Lahey.

 **Things you need to know about this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE/CANON-DIVERGENT UNIVERSE I've created for the purposes of this story –** Isaac is still human; Derek never turned him in Season Two, he just turned Erica and Boyd. Mr Lahey is still alive; the Pack managed to stop Matt before he was able to force Jackson/the Kanima to kill the former swimming coach.

 **Warnings (will add more as required) –** Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Alternate Universe/Canon-Divergence, Child Abuse, Medical Inaccuracies

 **~ Only Human ~**

 **~ Prologue ~**

Why?

Why had he argued?

He should've known by now that his father would go easier on him if he just admitted his failures, if he just bowed his head and apologised for whatever it was he had or hadn't done so why had he tried to defend his pathetic test results? Why had he felt the need to point out that his results were higher than they had been all semester? That he was improving?

Why?

Instead of merely being dragged down into the basement his father had thrown him down the stairs, delivering a brutal kick to his back to really send him tumbling. His body had tucked itself into a roll automatically in an instinctive attempt to protect himself from the fall but one of his arms had still managed to end up twisted underneath him when he had hit the ground, resulting the familiar feeling of a bone bring broken accompanying the pain.

Why hadn't he just taken the dressing down, the beating and imprisonment in the freezer?

He'd still ended up in the freezer, cradling his broken arm against his chest for the couple of hours that he lay trembling inside his own personal embodiment of hell until his father had finally returned to the basement and freed him, unlocking the padlock but leaving the freezer shut as he stumbled back up to the couch where his eighth beer was waiting for him.

After so many years of living with his fathers abuse Isaac had become quite adept at treating his injuries but normally they were just cuts and bruises, sometimes welts or burns. He'd broken more of Isaac's bones back when it had all startled following the deaths of his mother and older brother but when the hospital had begun to suspect an underlying reason that didn't match up with the "he's a clumsy kid" excuse his dad had used he'd introduced the freezer as a "suitable replacement" for the broken bones the teenager had suffered.

Pushing open the lid of the freezer, mercifully unplugged or he'd had had to contend with frostbite and hypothermia for years, he pulled himself up with his good arm and all but rolled out of the storage unit, whimpering softly as his entire body screamed in agony.

The hand attached to his broken arm was turning a rather alarming purple colour…

Ascending the stairs he emerged in the kitchen, pausing to lean against the wall for a moment as a wave of dizziness threatened to overcome him, before moving towards the front door of the run down house he had been all but trapped in for the last five years.

"I'm…I'm going to the hospital for my arm, dad," he called out shakily as he unlocked the three separate locks attached to the front door. "I'll tell them I fell down the stairs…"

Escaping the house before his father could respond he stumbled out onto the road, pulling his light jacket around him as tightly as he could with one working hand in order to combat the chill in the night air, and set off in the direction of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

It didn't take him long to make the relatively simple walk despite the slight limp which had set in about halfway there thanks to the persistent ache growing in his left thigh, warning him that there would be one hell of a bruise come the following morning. Given the late hour he'd extend the hospital to be relatively quiet but as he stepped into the car park he saw that he was mistaken but not for any reason which he would have expected – a thick electricity cable had come loose from somewhere and had fallen down in front of an ambulance which had evidently been heading from the main entrance to the hospital.

He watched, horrified, as the vehicle swerved and struck a fire hydrant sending water flooding out into the parking lot just as the wildly sparking end of the cable hit the ground.

"Oh, God…"

Countless voices screamed as the ambulance driver stumbled out of his damaged vehicle only to be electrocuted as soon as his feet touched the water, falling to the ground with an uncontrollable shriek of pain. Isaac was distracted from the poor woman who suffered the same fate after stepping out of her car into the growing pool of electrified water when he saw a vaguely familiar girl standing a couple of paces away from him, too stunned to move.

"No!"

His voice sounded foreign even to his own ears as he hurried across to where she was stood, pushing her with every bit of strength he possessed in order to throw her onto the raised patch of grass surrounding the car park just as the deadly water reached the point where her feet had been resting. Unfortunately there was nothing her could do to save himself.

A wave of pain unlike any other overwhelmed his senses, his body seizing up uncontrollably as the electricity coursed through his body. Blackness began creeping in at the edge of his vision just as his twitching body slumped forwards, the pain only increasing as more of him including the bare skin of his face and neck came into contact with the electrocuted water.

The last thing he saw before the darkness overcame him was the horrified expression on the girls face as she called out for someone to help him…

 **A/N –** I shouldn't be writing this. I've got too many stories on the go already but this idea literally wouldn't leave me alone ever since it watched the episode in question during my binge watching of the show which I only recently discovered. (I know, in so late the party it's ridiculous but never mind, I'm here now.) I haven't as of yet decided what pairing to include in this canon-divergent universe I've created so suggestions are more than welcome. X


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N –** I'm not a doctor or a nurse or a surgeon so please excuse any mistakes I make regarding the medical treatments/procedures I have included in this story. I researched as best I could but we all know how confusing the internet can be sometimes so please take everything with a pinch of salt and, you know, "artistic licence" and all that. Thanks.

 **~ Chapter One ~**

Allison barely paid any attention to the fact that Kira had just used her bare hands to render the sparking end of the electrical cable safe, instead focusing all of her attention on the vaguely familiar boy who had pushed her to safety at the cost of his own. It was obvious as soon as she dropped down beside him that he wasn't breathing, prompting her to scream,

" _He's not breathing!"_

Someone dropped down on the boys other side and she found herself facing someone who should have been her enemy but had actually become something of a friend – Derek Hale.

Reaching out he effortlessly rolled the motionless boy onto his back, the simple move revealing the horrific burns covering the exposed skin along one side of his body. When she looked back on this moments in the weeks to come she would be embarrassed by the pathetic whimper she had let out at that moment, her clever mind failing her even as Derek had begun performing CPR on her saviour whilst being careful not to use too much force.

Human bones were so fragile when at the mercy of a werewolf's strength.

"He…he saved my life…"

Flinching away from the clatter of the medical gurney Allison watched, her heart in her throat as Derek finally moved away from her saviour so that he could be lifted up onto the gurney, a nurse immediately climbing up to kneel over his unresponsive body so that she could continue the chest compressions which Derek had started. An arm wound around her waist, steadying her as they wheeled the gurney into the chaotic hospital just seconds after the gurney carrying the ambulance driver who had also been electrocuted was admitted.

"…he saved my life…" she mumbled again, leaning gratefully against Derek's solid body as her legs trembled in a way they hadn't since she's become a hunter, since she'd had to toughen up and put aside displays of weakness. "I don't…I don't even know his name…"

Allison still didn't know his name.

It had been almost 48 hours since the "accident" and Allison _still_ didn't know his name.

No one at the hospital had recognised him.

Nothing appeared when they ran his prints through the system.

Nobody came forward to report a missing teenage boy.

Allison had become a semi-permanent fixture in the hospital, perched on the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the ICU waiting for news about ' _John Doe – Electrical Burns'_ and as such had come to the decision that not only did she _hate_ hospitals (the clinical smells, the strange sounds, the constant activity) but also that the hospital desperately needed some colour.

Everything was either which or duck egg blue, so faded it looked almost grey.

Melissa McCall had been keeping her updated regarding the boys condition as she hadn't been allowed in to see him, the hospitals rule of " _family visitors only in the ICU unless otherwise instructed by the patient_ " still applying despite the unusual circumstances.

Her saviour had suffered moderate and severe burns to almost 40% of his body, specifically his face, neck, torso, right arm, right leg and his feet which had resulted in what Nurse McCall had described as a "worrying amount of damage to his sub-dermal tissue" which had resulted in the surgeon who had operated on him following the "accident" having to debride several of the burnt patches of skin so as to give him a better chance of healing.

Allison had been forced to look up the procedure when the older woman had refused to go into detail and had been horrified to learn that it basically meant that the surgeon had cut away the damaged tissue, stripping away the flesh until he'd reached an undamaged layer.

He'd been placed into a medically induced coma following the surgery and, for the most part, they were pleased with his rate of recovery despite the short passage of time. Melissa had admitted to her, however, that the surgeon was still very concerned about the boys feet which had apparently been unprotected due to the rubber soles of his shoes being riddled with holes. If the wounds to his feet didn't begin to show signs of healing they might be forced to either remove even more flesh or, as a last resort, remove his feet entirely.

It wasn't just ' _John Doe – Electrical Burns'_ that she was worried about, though, as no one had seen or heard from Stiles since he'd fled the hospital prior to the "accident" and none of them could be certain as to what state of mind he'd be in when they did eventually find him.

"Allison?"

Drawn out of her thoughts by the familiar voice she looked up from the floor tile she had inadvertently been staring at for quite some time to find herself looking up at Melissa and Scott, her ex-boyfriend who she still cared for a great deal but didn't love any more.

"I thought I told you I'd call you if anything changes so you could go home," Melissa murmured disapprovingly, shaking her head down at the teenage girl. "You need to rest."

Allison smiled sadly, rubbing the feeling back into her thighs as she rose to her feet in an effort to save herself from getting a crick in the neck on top of her other aches and pains.

"I went home," she admitted, brushing her loose hair back from her face somewhat nervously. "Took a shower. Had a nap. But I couldn't stop thinking about him, about how no one seems to be looking for him. I don't…I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up."

"Have you been in to see him?"

"No," she murmured, meeting Scott's sympathetic gaze as she answered his soft question. "Even though they don't know who he is they won't let anyone but family in to see him."

Scott turned his big brown eyes on his mother who let out a long suffering sigh.

"…be quick…"

Allison's body was practically vibrating with anticipation as she watched the kindly nurse swipe her hospital key card through the reader, the red light flashing green as the door unlocked. Scott led the way inside, pushing the heavy door open with ease. He then held open the door for both his mother and his ex-girlfriend, allowing them to slip into the room.

What she found, though not entirely unexpected, was enough to steal her breath away.

Her saviour was propped up by a mountain of pillows, his body tilted in such a way that the burns covering the majority of his right-hand-side. The skin of his neck and jawline were black, covered in a spiderweb of dark lines, but the skin down his right arm had been completely stripped away leaving only the raw redness of his vulnerable flesh behind. Above the blankets his torso had a few small burns, nowhere near as bad as the others, but the worst by far were the ones on his ankles and feet, exposed at the bottom of the blankets.

…was that bone?

He was hooked up to more machines than she cared to count, each one no doubt doing something highly important, with wires and leads draped all over his body. Most importantly, though, were the IV's pumping fluids into his body along with painkillers and medication to stave of the risk of infection and the oxygen tube to help him keep breathing.

"Is he in any pain?"

"We've got him on the strongest painkillers that we can give him but, given the amount of sub-dermal damage associated with electrical burns of this type, it's probably not enough to completely get rid of the pain he's in which is why we're keeping him in a medically induced coma for the time being," Melissa murmured regretfully, moving to stand at the head of the hospital bed so that she could run her fingers gently through the unconscious boy's dirty blonde hair. "He's got a strong heart, thankfully, as that was something we were worried about to begin with but unfortunately his bones are a little bit on the weak side."

"What do you mean?"

"…the surgeon believes he broke his arm in the fall but I have my own suspicions," Melissa explained, nodding towards the boys unburnt arm which Allison now noticed was wrapped in a plaster cast and resting upon a plump hospital pillow. "It's a nasty break, one which would have taken a heck of a lot of force to cause and he's got some broken and fractured ribs which don't match up with either the electrical shock or the fall he suffered."

"Mum?" Scott frowned deeply even as he reached out to take the boys hand, black lines appearing underneath his skin as he took away some of the pain. "What are you saying?"

Melissa bit her lip.

"He's got healed fractures as well as these recent ones," she explained, nodding towards the illuminated board where a set of x-rays were clearly on display. Allison could picked out the broken arm but not the smaller fractures. "Not to mention a worrying amount of scars…"

"You think he's being abused."

It was a statement, not a question, but Melissa still nodded in agreement.

Allison felt her heart clench at the thought that this boy who had sacrificed himself for her had in fact been coming to the hospital seeking medical treatment for injuries he'd suffered at the hands of an abuser, a friend or a member of his own family. If he was a victim of child abuse it would explain why no one had come forwards looking for him; either they didn't care that he'd apparently gone missing or they were too worried about being found out.

"Have you told anyone?"

"I've asked the Sheriff to stop by when he can," Melissa responded to her soft enquiry, her gazing fixed on the boy's face which had relaxed significantly since Scott took some of his pain away, the furrow between his eyebrows lessening. "I'll explain my suspicions to him, see what he thinks. Of course there's nothing we can actually do until he wakes up…"

Allison hummed softly, vocalising her agreement with the older woman's plan.

"Now the two of you should be getting to school," Melissa murmured firmly, running her fingers through the boy's hair one last time before she began to usher the two teenagers towards the door. "I know you're worried for him but you being here won't help him heal any faster. Go to school. Look after your educations. I'll call you if his condition changes."

She didn't want to go to school.

She knew she wouldn't be able to focus on anything but she was powerless to argue against the strong willed single mother and soon found herself sitting down in her seat for the first class of the day, her books open before her and the teacher rattling of facts and figures.

No one, not even the teachers themselves, noticed the empty seat at the back of the classroom where a boy who's clothes were always torn or dirty would sit in complete and utter silence, his head always tilted downwards so that his messy hair hid his the bruises which were almost a permanent feature on his handsome face as he completed the work.

If they had they would have realised that the boy lying comatose in the hospital was Isaac Lahey, son of the school's former swimming coach who had gone off the rails after losing his wife to a car accident and his eldest son to the war in the Middle East, turning the bottle for help.

But no one noticed…

 **A/N** Phew! Sorry this took so long but I've got this strange little schedule/ritual I keep to when writing my stories in that I work on completing a chapter for a story in a certain order given the number of works in progress I've got going and as this is relatively new this story is rather low down on the schedule. It'll become a higher priority once I complete one of the others though, I promise. In the meantime I'll get updates out when I can. Hope you enjoyed the chapter as it was a tough one to get right. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X


	3. Chapter 2

**~ Chapter Two ~**

"…you stupid bugger…"

What?

The familiar voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

"…what did you have to go and do _that_ for…?"

Isaac frowned.

No.

It couldn't be…

"C-Cam?"

A chuckle, painfully familiar, had his eyes snapping open heedless of the bright lights surrounding him.

It _was_ Cam, his brother; his _dead_ brother.

He was sat beside him, dressed as he had been the last time Isaac had seen him before he'd been.

"You're dead."

Camden nodded.

"I am," he confirmed, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair. "Which is why I'm so incredibly pissed off to see you here, little brother."

Oh.

Wait…

"Am _I_ dead?"

"Not quite," Camden muttered, gesturing for Isaac to look across the room they were in. "But if you don't get a move on you soon will be."

It was a waiting room, the kind they have at clinics and hospitals, only everything was white which explained why the room was so bright.

Every single chair was occupied.

What Cam had drawn his attention to, however, was the faceless figure dressed in a Victorian nurses uniform.

The figure both frightened and calmed him, something about the aura they projected making him feel safe and content.

"I don't understand…"

"Watch."

Obediently he watched the faceless figure approach a young woman who was dressed in a hospital gown, holding out a clipboard and fountain pen.

"Once you sign that's it," Cam explained as the young woman did just that, signing her name with a flourish of her hand. "You've heard of signing your life away? They take that very literally here. See?"

Clipboard returned the faceless figure helped the young woman to her feet and led her over to a set of hospital doors.

A blinding light forced him to look away as the doors were opened and once it had faded both the young woman and the faceless figure were gone.

"…where did she go?"

"Heaven," Cam answered simply. "Or Hell. Whichever they think she deserved."

"…they?"

"Yup. The ever present but never identified _They_."

Another brief flash of blinding light and the faceless figure had returned. This time the figure headed towards an elderly man dressed in a scruffy set of clothes, stained with dirt, and gardening gloves.

"Isaac, you need to go back."

"Back?"

Camden nodded towards something over Isaacs shoulder, prompting him to turn in his own uncomfortable seat to see what it was.

A door.

Not just any door; the door which haunted his dreams.

The basement door in the kitchen of his house behind which lay the broken freezer…

No.

"I don't want to go back _there_ ," Isaac protested sharply, spinning back to face his brother. His hands flew up to clutch at the camouflage fabric of his jacket. "I want to stay here with you."

"You can't stay here with me, Izzy, because I don't belong here either," Cam sighed sadly, reaching up to cup Isaac's cheek. His hand felt strange, almost like it was made of static electricity. "I'm not meant to be here at all but I had to see you, to stop you from giving up. You've got so much of your life left to live, Isaac."

"…but I don't…I can't…"

"I know it doesn't seem like it right now but it gets better," Camden vowed. "You can get away from him, Isaac. You can defeat him. You just have to survive. Survive and be happy. Then he'll never win."

Another flash of blinding light and the old man and the faceless figure were gone.

"Cam…"

"Isaac, _please_ , go back while you still can," Camden implored him, his eyes locking with Isaacs. "I didn't have this, have a choice; I was too far gone. Isaac…"

A blinding flash signalled the return of the faceless figure who, as though they knew what Camden was trying to do, began to move towards where Isaac was sat.

"Cam, I'm frightened…"

"I know, Izzy…" Cam murmured soothingly, bringing his other hand up to cup Isaac's other cheek. "But you need to go back. For me. Please, Izzy, go back…"

Tears flooded down both of their faces.

"I miss you, Cam…"

"I'm always with you, Izzy…" Camden vowed. "Always."

The faceless figure stopped in front of Isaac, holding the clipboard and fountain pen out to him.

On the clipboard was a contract.

' _Agreement to termination of life on the mortal plain'_ was written in a bold cursive print at the top of the single sheet of paper, the words causing him to whimper. _'I, the bellow signed, agree to the termination of my life…'_

There was more, a lot more, legal mumbo-jumbo that Isaac barely understood but the overall meaning was clear.

If he signed the contract he was dead.

He took hold of the pen.

"No, Isaac, _please_ …"

He hesitated, pen hovering above the extended clipboard as he glanced towards his brother.

"Live, Isaac," Cam pleaded with him, tears flooding down his tanned cheeks. " _Please…_ "

His hand began to shake…

No.

 _No._

 _He didn't want to die._

Dropping the pen he launched himself up out of his seat, dislodging his brother's hands in his haste to take off towards the familiar door.

The last thing he heart as he pushed it open, blackness rushing out to meet him, was his brother's joyous laughter…

"…Cam!"

The time when he opened his eyes he found himself inside a modern hospital room, machines beeping around him. It was grey, dimly lit and empty.

He choked on a bitter sob.

The dream was fading fast; a clipboard, a young woman, a fountain pen, a person without a face…and Cam.

His brother.

He'd been dreaming about his brother who had been killed by an IED in Iraq nearly five years ago.

Grief stricken sobs burst from his chest only to morph into gasps of pain as the tears falling down his cheeks seemed to burn through his skin.

What was wrong with him?

His left arm was in a cast but his right arm…why was it covered in bandages?

Wait.

Water.

He remembered water and a falling electrical cable…

And Allison.

Allison Argent, one of the nicest, prettiest girls at school who probably didn't know he existed.

He'd…pushed her?

A little grey handset lay by his left hand, one end connected by a cable to the wall, the other dominated by a large red button.

Carefully, only moving his fingers and thumb, he picked up the handset and pressed his thumb down on the red button.

Nothing happened for a long moment.

No alarms went off.

But then just as he released the button the door was flung open to admit a flustered looking woman in green nurses scrubs, her dark curls escaping the bun on the top of her head as she stumbled to a halt at the foot of his bed.

"You're awake," she breathed, obviously surprised. "That's…that's _wonderful_ …"

Why?

How long had he been asleep?

He opened his mouth, intending to ask that very question, but all that came out was a croak.

"Hold on a minute, sweetheart," the nurse murmured, turning to head back out the door. "Let me get you some ice chips to suck on, help sooth that sore throat of yours."

Oh…

Yes…

Now that she'd mentioned it something to sooth his throat would be a greatly appreciated.

She was back in no time at all, pulling a stool up to the side of his bed so that she could sit and carefully feed him pieces of ice.

"My name is Nurse McCall," she told him before smiling ruefully and shaking her head. "Actually it's Melissa, my name that is, but around here I'm mostly known as Nurse McCall. Do you…do you know where you are?"

"…hospital…"

Obviously.

Where else would you find all the equipment currently attached to him?

Not to mention find a nurse attending to his every need…

"Yes, but which hospital?"

Huh.

That was a little trickier for some unknown reason but eventually he was able to answer,

"Beacon Hills."

She nodded, smiling happily.

"That's right," she murmured. "Now do you remember how you came to be here?"

It was his turn nod, albeit weakly.

Huh.

His face didn't hurt any more…

Instead it felt…numb…

"…water…cable…Allison…"

"Yes, you pushed her out of the way," the nurse agreed, filling in the blanks for him. "Saved her life, you little hero."

"…m'not a hero…"

"Let's agree to disagree for now," Nurse McCall countered cheerfully. "Unfortunately you didn't move fast enough to save yourself. I'll fetch your doctor in a moment and he can talk you through your injuries but luckily they got the power turned off before it…"

"…killed me," he finished for her. "…if I was hurt why can't I feel it? I…I'm not in pain…"

"Drugs," she answered simply. "Plus some of the burns were deep enough to damage your nerves."

"Oh."

That sounded bad.

"Dr Geyer will be able to explain everything for you," she reassured him, slipping another ice chip into his mouth. "So, what's your name? You didn't have any ID on you when you came in so I'm afraid we've been calling you John Doe for the last couple of weeks…"

Weeks?

He'd been…

It had been…

 _Weeks?_

"…Isaac…" he eventually mumbled. "…m'name is Isaac…"

"Hello Isaac," she murmured politely, her voice having an unusual calming effect. "Is there a last name to go with that?"

"…Lahey…"

Nurse McCall smiled.

"Isaac Lahey," she repeated, taking the chart which hung from the end of his bed. Retrieving a pen from the pocket of her scrubs, the blunt end bearing distinct teeth impressions, she crossed out the words printed on the chart and wrote in his name. "There. That's better."

Shortly thereafter, once all of the ice chips had been used to sooth the dryness in his throat, Nurse McCall disappeared for fifteen minutes to fetch Dr Geyer, the doctor who had been treating him. Isaac spent those fifteen minutes worrying about what he was about to hear.

"Hello, Isaac," the handsome man who followed Nurse McCall into the room greeted him warmly, his teeth gleaming brightly. "I'm Dr Geyer. I've been overseeing your treatment."

Isaac responded with a small nod, paired with a nervous smile.

"Now I'm sure you're anxious to know the extent of your injuries," the doctor continued, his hands moving to hover over the bandages covering Isaac's right arm. "Isaac, you received moderate to severe electrical burns to almost 40% of your body including your face, neck, torso, right arm, right leg and your feet. The most severe burns were to your feet."

It felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

That…

That sounded bad…

"We've done our best to care for your various injuries although I'm afraid that there will be several more operations in your future, mostly skin grafts," Dr Greyer explained, moving down to the foot of Isaac's bed. "Currently your feet are our main concern due to the extensive amount of sub-dermal tissue damage they received, particularly to your ankles."

"Will I…" Isaac hesitated, his voice choking up. "…will I be able to…"

"Walk? Yes, Isaac, you will," Dr Greyer confirmed without hesitation. "There was talk of possibly having to amputate had they not healed as well as they have. We did have to cut away another couple of layers of decaying flesh but that will heal. As it stands you will require a significant amount of physical therapy following the skin graft operations but, so long as nothing goes drastically wrong, we won't be considering amputation any time soon."

Decaying flesh…

Amputation.

He might have…

He might have woken up without his feet…

"Oh…"

His stomach clenched.

"I…I think I'm going to be sick…"

A disposable bowl was thrust in front of his face just in time to catch the bitter tasting bile he expelled, his stomach clenching painfully until finally it began to calm, allowing him to recline back against his pillows.

Only then did he notice the pain in his side…

"Ow…"

A quick check confirmed that he'd pulled one of the healing burn, blood welling up around the fresh wound. Nurse McCall needed no prompting to begin treating it, cleaning it with a sterilising wipe which burned almost as much as the injury itself did before redressing it.

"I'll get you something for the pain."

"We put you in a medically induced coma for a week following the accident," Dr Greyer continued with his explanation, moving aside when Nurse McCall returned so that she could inject something into the port of Isaac's IV. "Now, on a separate note we also discovered an older injury which, as you can see by the cast on your left arm, we have also treated. You suffered a distal radius fracture, a broken wrist to use laymen's terms, most probably from a fall but I was hoping you could explain to us how you came about the injury."

Isaac froze, staring at the bowl of fowl smelling liquid as Nurse McCall removed it.

"Isaac?"

"…I fell."

It was the truth, or rather half the truth.

He did fall.

He just had some help in doing so…

"How? Where?"

"I…tripped…" he mumbled, glancing away from the doctor's face. "Down the stairs."

He missed the look shared between the two medical professionals.

"Ok, Isaac," Dr Greyer murmured. "I'd like you to get some more if you can. Nurse McCall will be checking up on you and if you need anything just ring for her like you did earlier."

Isaac nodded, silently showing his agreement.

He was tired…

It was a lot to take in…

His injuries…

The dream…

Cam…

"I wish you were still here, big brother…" he mumbled, mercifully once he had been left alone. His eyes stung with tears of longing and grief. "I could use a Camden hug right now…"

Closing his eyes, allowing his tears to fall, he allowed himself to drift off to memories of his beloved older brother holding him close, rocking him back and forth and singing in his ear.

Unknown to him the two medical professionals had paused just outside his room, standing in silence for a long moment before sharing another look.

His answer, vague as it had been, had reignited their earlier suspicions of abuse.

"Melissa," Dr Geyer sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. "Update the Sheriff, would you?"

She nodded, worrying her own lip with her teeth.

Lahey…

Why was that name so familiar?

 **A/N** Sorry this took so long – had a nasty case of writers block with this chapter and had to completely change my approach to it in order to get it to work. Hopefully the next chapter won't be quite so difficult. Also please excuse the numerous medical inaccuracies I'm sure are in this chapter (and will no doubt be in future chapters) – I'm not a medical professional and a _'First Aid At Work'_ qualification and access to Google/Wikipedia can only do so much. LOL. Comments  & Suggestions welcome. X


	4. Chapter 3

**~ Chapter Three ~**

Noah had just taken a hefty bite out of his illicit double bacon cheeseburger, the blinds of his office drawn so as to keep out any prying eyes who would report on him to his son, when his cell phone chirped and began ringing insistently. Transferring the burger to a one handed grip rather than the two he had been using to keep the potential mess as contained as possible he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID, his subconscious helpfully supplying a list of people who could be ignored in favour of his food.

 _Melissa McCall._

Ah.

He dropped his burger back into its wrapper on top of his desk, swallowing his mouthful of food as he picked up the device, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer the call; Melissa was _definitely_ not one of the people he could ignore no matter how good the food.

"Stilinski."

"Isaac Lahey," Melissa blurted out, her voice shaking more than usual. Noah straightened in his chair, picking up on her worry even as he wondered as to the relevance of the unfamiliar name. "Sorry. That's…our _John Doe – Electrical Burns_ woke up about twenty minutes ago and that's his name. There's no evidence of memory loss; he remembers what happened right up to when he pushed Allison go safety. Dr Geyer questioned him about the broken arm, the one which couldn't be attributed to the accident and…well…you know, set some all bells ringing. Isaac…Isaac claimed that he hurt it when he tripped and fell down the stairs…"

Noah grimaced.

How many times had he interviewed abuse victims and heard that exact explanation?

"And I don't know why but the name Isaac Lahey seems _really_ familiar…"

"Ok, I'll find out what I can about him and get in contact with his next of kin," Noah sighed, rubbing his free hand across his face at the prospect of dealing with a case of suspected child abuse. Anything involving children always made his gut clench painfully. "See why they haven't reported him missing during the last couple of weeks. I'll keep you updated."

"I'll let you know if anything about his condition changes."

"Thanks."

Ending the phone call Noah wrapped the remains of his lunch in its wrapper and dropped it into his rubbish bin, his appetite almost completely gone, and opened up his official laptop.

It took him only a couple of seconds to find 'Isaac Lahey' on the database, printing the file out even as he read through the information on the screen; Isaac Lahey. Sixteen years old. Sophomore at Beacon Hills High School. Father, Edward Lahey, currently employed at Beacon Hills Cemetery, formerly employed as the Swim Coach at Beacon Hills High School. Mother, Elizabeth Lahey neé Ryan, deceased. Brother, Camden Lahey, older, also deceased.

There was a link to his father's file which had several domestic disturbances listed, a couple of them in the months following his wife's death whilst most appeared to have taken place after the sudden death of his older son. Another link informed him that Camden Lahey had been a Marine and had been killed by an IED in Iraq the day before his twenty-first birthday.

Noah could understand the pain of losing the one you love, of being forced to put your spouse into the ground before their time, and he could remember how easy it was to sink into the despair that following, to allow the corrupting, destructive darkness to swoop in…

He couldn't even begin to imagine the pain that came with burying a child.

The difference between himself and Edward Lahey, it seemed, was startlingly simple; whilst

Noah had worked hard to bring himself back from that slippery slope Edward had allowed himself to be sucked further and further into the corrupting, destructive embrace of grief.

Noah had had people looking out for him, forcing him to realise what he was doing before it got too far. He couldn't remember a lot of the weeks following Claudia's funeral, the alcohol he'd been surviving off of affecting his memories, but he could clearly remember the day he'd screamed at his son so much that the then eight year old boy had run across town by himself to Melissa McCall and begged her to help his daddy because he was "possessed."

Melissa had arrived, full of righteous fury, and had poured away every drop of alcohol whilst Noah had been sleeping off that particular bender. She'd then proceeded to wake him up with a bucket of cold water over his head and had given him a stern talking to, describing how her husband had behaved towards her and Scott when he was drunk, how his actions had finally driven her to throw him out and how Noah was beginning to act the same way.

" _Think of Stiles,"_ she'd pleaded with him. _"Do you want him to be afraid of you? To hate you? Scott can't stand to be in the same room as his father and he barely remembers what happened. Is that the relationship you want with the last piece of Claudia you'll ever have?"_

Edward either hadn't had anyone else looking out for him or he had chosen to ignore them.

Nothing could justify abuse of a child, however, which was one of the reasons Noah had always felt so indebted to Melissa; she had stopped him from doing something he would never have been able to forgive himself for. She had stopped him from becoming like…

Shaking his head he banished thoughts of his own childhood, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to remember those awful moments just then, he leant across to collect the pages from the printer and, after quickly checking that they were all there, headed out of his office into the main squad room so as to get the ball rolling on the investigation into the Lahey's.

He scanned the occupants of the room, noting which ones appeared to be busy with cases and which ones were merely working at their desks, either wrapping up a case they had been working on or tackling some of the day to day paperwork which came with the job.

One stood out amongst the rest thanks to recent events.

Jordan Parrish.

Following the slaughter of almost half the department at the hands of the Kanima and Matt Daehler, a night which had haunted his dreams even _before_ Stile had explained what had really happened when he'd briefed him on the supernatural world, he had received only one applicant for to the vacant Deputy positions. Even now they were still understaffed, most people unwilling to join a department with such a poor survival rate for such a small town.

Noah hadn't been the only one to wonder what had brought Deputy Parrish to Beacon Hills.

" _Maybe I needed a change,"_ the handsome young man had responded when pressed back when he'd first arrived in town. He'd already proven himself perfectly capable by that point. _"I don't really know. I guess I kind of felt drawn here. And I knew there were openings…"_

His performance over the coming months, particularly when dealing with the issues caused by the Nogitsune which had been possessing Noah's own son, had impressed the Sheriff so much that he didn't even hesitate to call out for the young Deputy to join him in his office.

"Sir?" Parrish enquired as he obediently stepped into the smaller room, automatically accepting the sheets of paper the Sheriff offered him whilst shutting the door. "What…?"

"We have an identity on the _John Doe_ who saved Allison Argent at the hospital," Noah explained, nodding towards the sheets as he perched on the edge of his desk. "Isaac Lahey. Familiarise yourself with the file and then I want you to head over to his father's and find out why the man hasn't reported his son missing any time in the last two and a half weeks."

Parrish frowned down at the information he held,

"…three, four, five, six, seven, eight, _nine_ domestic disturbances within the last four years?"

Noah merely grunted in response, making his displeasure and concern known.

"What a surprise, none of them went to trial because his son… _sons_ …refused to corroborate any of the charges," Parrish muttered to himself as he scanned through the file. He blinked up at the Sheriff, his deep hazel eyes filled with concern. "We're thinking abuse, right?"

"Yes. I'll be working on getting hold of a subpoena for Isaac's medical records while you're interviewing the father," Noah responded, his mind already planning the phone calls he was going to have to make. "Hopefully they'll give us the evidence we need for a warrant…"

"I'll have a word with some of the neighbours as well," Parrish announced without prompting, his voice taking on a hard edge in response to dealing with a case of suspected child abuse. "I imagine some of them were the ones to call in the domestic disturbances."

Noah found himself nodding, agreeing with the Deputy's plan and reasoning.

"Ok, report back to me when you get back."

"Will do, Sheriff."

Watching the young man exit his office, hurrying over to his desk to collect his jacket and car keys, Noah was suddenly struck by the realisation that for the first time in weeks he was working on a case which had nothing to do with the supernatural world. There was no need for him to adapt or fabricate a witness statement in order to keep the supernatural world a secret. There was no chance that the perpetrator was a werewolf or a hunter or a darach.

In any other circumstances it would actually be a refreshing feeling.

It had been a difficult couple of weeks…

Losing his son piece by piece to an evil spirit which had imbedded itself in his mind had been the worst experience of his entire life, right up there with losing his wife to _frontotemporal dementia_. The Nogitsune, the evil spirit, had been cruel to everyone during its quest for revenge but particularly to Stiles, making him believe that he was suffering from the same disease that had killed his mother and in doing so had broken Noah's heart again and again.

Committing Stiles to Eichen House, even if it had only been for seventy-two hours whilst he himself travelled to LA to speak to specialist about his sons MRI scan, had shattered his soul.

" _First seventy-two hours there's no phone calls, no e-mails, no visitors," the tired looking admissions nurse explained as Noah filled out the required paperwork. Stiles, his expression one of pure exhaustion and resignation, said nothing. A harsh buzzer sounded somewhere behind them, prompting Noah to turn and look over his shoulder just in time to witness one of the orderlies pulling open a door reminiscent of the cells at the station, the ones used to lock up criminals. "We will be taking you from here to a brief physical. In the morning you'll be assessed by a staff psychologist, speak to a social worker and attend group therapy."_

 _He hesitated, pen hovering over the dotted line where he needed to sign his name._

" _I feel like we're forgetting something…"_

" _You will be wearing these, Stiles," the nurse continued as though he hadn't spoken, placing a pair of beige slipper on the table. "No laces allowed. You don't have a belt, do you?"_

 _The implication behind that question, that his son could be a suicide risk, left a foul taste in his mouth. He tried to bring the pen down upon the paper but found that he couldn't, his hand trembling too much as he reacted to the situation more visibly than his precious son._

 _A white plastic tray followed the slippers onto the top of the desk._

" _And please empty your pockets in here."_

 _Stile moved to obey, his movements somewhat sluggish due to lack of sleep._

 _Wait…_

 _Sleep…_

" _Your pillow," he gasped, his stomach clenching. "Your pillow. We forgot your pillow."_

" _Dad," Stiles murmured, his voice deceptively even. "It's okay."_

 _No._

 _It wasn't._

" _No, you're never going to be able to fall asleep," Noah protested, dropping the pen entirely as he turned to face his son who was bent over his backpack. "We...we've got to go back."_

" _Its fine, Dad," Stiles murmured placatingly. "I don't need it."_

" _I can't believe I forgot it," Noah murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He felt the nurses gaze on him. It was the smallest thing, something every parent had done at least once, but forgetting his son's pillow was the final straw for the already overwrought man. "I mean, every time that we've ever stayed in a hotel, the first thing you pack is your pillow."_

" _You can bring it tomorrow," Stiles sighed deeply, bringing one of his feet up onto the chair so that he could undo his shoe laces and pull the battered shoe off of his foot. "It's all right."_

 _No._

 _A door slammed, the metallic sound echoing unpleasantly through his mind._

 _Stiles sighed, emptying his keys into the tray before tackling his other shoe._

 _A buzzer sounded, causing him to jump in his seat, and when he looked another cell door was being pushed open by an orderly in the corridor leading off of the room they were in._

 _The sound of coins dropping into the plastic tray brought his attention back to his son._

 _He watched as his son's phone, an item that the teenage boy couldn't live without, was placed inside the white plastic tray with no care at all causing the coins and keys to rattle._

 _No._

 _It was_ far _from all right._

" _Okay, you know what?" he snapped, springing up to his feet. "Stop. Stop. Enough. Stiles, get your stuff. I'm not checking you in here if you're not gonna get one good night's sleep."_

" _Dad," Stiles interrupted him, getting to his slipper clad feet. Noah flinched minutely as his son placed his hands firmly on his shoulders, taking the role of the comforter in a situation where he should be the one being comforted. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks."_

 _He'd been struck dumb, accepting his son into his arms when the teenager moved in for a hug, winding his arms around the trembling body as sadness coursed through his soul in response to the realisation that once again he had failed his son when he really needed him._

It helped to know that it hadn't been his failure as a parent at the heart of Stiles' problems back then but rather the cruelty of the Nogitsune although, admittedly, not by much. The memory watching his son shuffle awkwardly along the corridor would stay with him forever.

Something thudded outside his office, prompting him to stick his head out of his office to discover what had happened. As it turned out one of the ceiling tiles, which had been cracked and somewhat singed, had finally given up and fallen down, disintegrating on impact with the floor. Thankfully it hadn't struck anyone on the way down like some of the others had and Deputy Marsh was already heading off to find a brush to clean up the mess.

Due to the limited budget they had to hand the station still bore some of the scars from the bombing, the damaged ceiling tile being one of them, although his office had had to be completely rebuilt given that it had been at the epicentre of the blast. He'd tried not to spend too much of the insurance money on it though, knowing that the money would be better used elsewhere in the building, so his replacement office was very stark and empty.

Stiles had admitted to feeling a deep sense of guilt about Kyle Ross, the Deputy who had been killed during the attack which the Nogitsune had been able to plan and execute thanks to his sons memories of the station, to the point where he had sent a bouquet of flowers and an anonymous letter of condolence to Mrs Ross, the Deputies devastated widow.

"Any chance of getting some replacement ceiling tiles any time soon, Sheriff?" Marsh enquired as she swept the debris into the dustpan, glancing around at the missing tiles which were exposing the empty space between the ceiling and the concrete roof. "I know the priority was, you know, working doors and secure walls but that ceilings going to suck all the heat out of this place once winter gets here. Not only that but it looks, well, awful…"

"I know," he responded apologetically, agreeing with every word she said. The station was difficult enough to heat during the colder months at the best of times without having spots for the heat to escape through. "Budget should stretch to it in the next couple of months."

Deputy Marsh nodded in understanding, moving to empty the dustpan into the rubbish bin.

Heading back into his office, shutting the door behind him, he frowned as a piece of paper caught his eye. It was mostly hidden underneath his desk, only a single corner poking out, and so he crouched down to retrieve it, flipping it over to see what had been printed on it.

"Oh…"

It was one of the missing person's reports he'd drafted after his son had gone missing from Eichen House, using one of the pictures of Stiles from the previous summer and stating all of the relevant information just like they always did; height, hair colour, eye colour, what he had last been seen wearing, where he had gone missing from. He had withheld his real name, however, knowing that Stile would never forgive him if he revealed it to the world, not even under such distressing circumstances. He never answered to Mieczyslaw anyway.

Dropping down into his chair he stared at the poster in his hands, remembering how he'd handed them out to the volunteers who had come to help search for his missing son. He now understood how painful it was to beg for peoples help, how it was to feel helpless…

Of course this was before the Nogitsune separated itself from his son whilst he was stuck in a preliminary hearing to determine if he could keep his job, courtesy of Rafe McCall. The evil spirit had taken his sons likeness meaning that there were _two_ Stiles Stilinski's in Beacon Hills, one of whom was a dangerous murderer, and people were actively looking out for him because as far as they were concerned he was a vulnerable missing teen who needed help.

It was a miracle that no one had been hurt whilst trying to do the right thing.

Enough people had been hurt by the actions of the Nogitsune, including Isaac, or had been caught in the crossfire between the vengeful creature and the Oni, supernatural creatures which had been summoned to hunt down the Nogitsune. According to Chris Argent, one of the resident experts on the supernatural world, the Oni were meant to be unstoppable, impervious to all man-made weapons although they now knew that to be a falsehood.

Oni, unlike everything else the town had supposedly faced, were neither good nor evil; they were simply given a task and would let nothing interfere with the completion of said task.

And that task was hunting down the creature possessing Stiles.

 _Noah held out his handcuffs, the metal clinking softly._

" _You want to handcuff me?"_

" _If my son is still here, if there's still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he'll put these on willingly and he'll come with me," he explained softly, making his way further into the loft. Alone. Stiles, or possibly the Nogitsune, wouldn't meet his emotional gaze, ducking his head down. "Because he knows I'm here to protect him from himself and from others."_

 _Moving slowly Stiles held up first one hand, then the other with his palms facing inwards, and Noah moved forwards to carefully secure the handcuffs around his son's pale wrists._

 _A moment passed and then, as though something had shifted inside him, Stiles looked up._

 _Only it wasn't him._

" _You're not my son."_

 _Tilting his head to the side the Nogitsune smirked, jerking his wrists apart so forcefully that the handcuffs just seemed to shatter, the pieces flying off in multiple directions. Noah felt sick, unable to look away from the expressionless face, even as he heard the others entering the loft; Derek, Allison and Chris Argent. The Nogitsune shifted, looking around at them all._

 _Allison fired her taser, just as they'd planned._

 _What they could never had planner for was the Nogitsune catching the metal probes in his hand and absorbing the electricity without even flinching, his empty gaze locking with hers._

 _Derek tried next but was quickly overpowered, forcing them to watch in shock as the Nogitsune smashed Derek's head down onto the edge of a desk before literally throwing him across the room into a pillar with enough force to leaving him stunned on the floor._

 _Shit…_

 _The familiar sound of a gun cocking echoed through the large room, drawing everyone's gaze to where Chris Argent held his gun with both hands, the weapon aimed at Stiles' heart._

 _No…_

" _Argent, listen to me," Noah pleaded, holding his hand out towards the other man in a familiar move, one he had used many times when dealing with a suspect. "Don't do this."_

" _Why not?" Chris responded, meeting the painfully cold gaze of the Nogitsune when the creature focused on him. Derek pulled himself to his feet, gazing fearfully at the scene taking place whilst Allison shifted nervously, obviously unsure about what she should do. "I've done it before. Werewolves, berserkers. I can easily add a Nogitsune to the list."_

 _Noah had drawn his own weapon before he even realised he was doing it, ignoring the way his son's face twisted into an amused expression as he aimed towards the other man's skull._

" _You're not going to shoot my son."_

" _You said it yourself, Sheriff," Chris murmured, his eyes shifting across to meet Noah's tortured gaze although his body remained perfectly still, ready to act. "That's not your son."_

" _Put it down," Noah ordered, feeling Allison coming up behind him. "Put it down."_

" _Dad, he's going to shoot me…"_

 _Stiles…_

" _He's going to kill me, Dad…"_

 _His son…_

 _That was his son…_

" _Don't listen."_

 _His hands, normally so steady in these kind of situations, were beginning to tremble._

" _Put it down. Now!" Noah snapped. "Do it! Put it down!"_

 _Chris returned his attention to the Nogitsune who took as step towards him._

" _Pull the trigger," Stiles' voice ordered softly. "Come on."_

" _Listen to me," Noah found himself begging, unable to cope with the possibility that he might be about to witness his son's murder. "You put the gun down now!"_

 _It descended into something akin to chaos then, their voices overlapping each other._

" _Shoot me."_

" _Put the gun down now!"_

" _Dad!"_

" _Shoot me!"_

" _Put the gun down!"_

" _Shoot me!"_

 _Stiles…_

" _Argent, you put it down!"_

 _And then something changed, Allison gasping softly just as the light began to fade,_

" _Strife…"_

 _Noah was too focused on what he was trying to do to pay her any attention._

" _Put it down! Put it down!"_

" _Stop! Stop it!" the teenage girl eventually screamed, her voice cutting through the panicked fog which had surrounded his brain and drawing his attention over to where she was stood facing the Nogitsune. "This is what he wants. This is exactly what he wants."_

 _Stiles, no, not Stiles…the Nogitsune sighed softly, obviously disappointed._

" _Not exactly."_

 _This time when it spoke it was not the voice of his son. Gone was the warmth he had thought he had heard before; now it was cold and somewhat gravelly, deep and dark._

" _I was kind of hoping Scott would be here," the Nogitsune admitted, looking around at each of them. "But I'm glad you all have your guns out. Because you're not here to kill me."_

 _The creature paused, turning around to face the wall of windows where four figures appeared out of nowhere, appearing like gusts of black wind and armed with deadly swords._

" _You're here to protect me."_

Noah shuddered, staring down at the missing poster for a long moment before finally scrunching it up into a ball and dropping it into the rubbish bin at the side of his desk.

He couldn't afford to keep getting lost in the past.

He had too many things he needed to do.

Giving the mouse a wiggle to wake his computer back up Noah set to work on the most important thing he needed to get done just then; getting the subpoena for Isaac Lahey's medical records. Despite being "painfully computer illiterate" according to his son he was well practised in filling out the forms required for this particular task, given that requesting subpoenas and warrants were pretty much a day to day process for anyone working in law enforcement, and in no time at all he was shooting off an email with the forms attached.

After that all he could do was wait.

 **A/N** Well, this chapter took a few unexpected twists and turns…turns out my muse really likes chapters told from the Sheriff's point of view…and I'd actually intended to have our first taste of Mr Lahey in this chapter but that'll just have to wait until next time. Comments  & Suggestions welcome. X


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer –** Big surprise, I know, but I don't own anything. Unless I end up creating some OC's which may or may not happened depending on how I feel but if so I do own them…

 **Summary –** In a small, run down house in the town of Beacon Hills lives a boy who is only human. A boy who has lost everything he ever loved. His mother. His brother. His father. No, his father wasn't dead but he certainly wasn't the same man he had once been. A boy who was in the right place at the right time and managed not only to save a life but to finally make some real friends and, you know, save the whole town. His name? Isaac. Isaac Lahey.

 **Things you need to know about this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE/CANON-DIVERGENT UNIVERSE I've created for the purposes of this story –** Isaac is still human; Derek never turned him in Season Two, he just turned Erica and Boyd. Mr Lahey is still alive; the Pack managed to stop Matt before he was able to force Jackson/the Kanima to kill the former swimming coach.

 **Warnings (will add more as required) –** Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Alternate Universe/Canon-Divergence, Child Abuse, Medical Inaccuracies

 **~ Only Human ~**

 **~ Chapter Four ~**

Jordan didn't know what he had been expecting to find but a pretty little red-bricked house, complete with a perfectly maintained front garden, definitely wasn't it. As he stepped up onto the porch, adjusting his gun belt out of habit so that it was perfectly placed for him to reach his weapon should he need to, he noted that the white trim had been repainted recently as there were splotches of paint here and there and that the front door was new.

As he reached out to ring the doorbell he noticed a tiny piece of tape over the buzzer, the words 'OUT OF ORDER – PLEASE KNOCK' written it what was undeniably a teenagers hand printed on the scrap of paper the tape was holding in place. It settled something in his stomach, discovering something that wasn't picture perfect about the property of a suspected child abuser. He had been worrying that he might have had the wrong house…

All thoughts of having the wrong address flew out of his mind when the door was opened in response to his firm knocks, revealing an older man with a weather beaten face who was dressed only in his boxer's shorts and an off-white vest. His glasses, wired rimmed, were falling down his long nose and the hand that he brought up to push them back up was holding a can of beer which was mostly empty if the sloshing sound was anything to go by.

"Yeah?" the older man grunted, leaning against the doorframe. "Can I help you?"

"Mr Lahey?"

Jordan found himself straightening up to his full height as the received confirmation in the form of an unimpressed glare, a quick nod which was interrupted by a large swig of beer.

He barely hid his grimace when Mr Lahey let out a grotesque burp before demanding,

"So? What do you want?"

Jordan cleared his throat, fishing out his notepad and pen simply to give his hands something to do that wasn't snatching the other man's beer away and disposing of it.

"Sir, what can you tell me about the whereabouts of your son, Isaac?"

As far as changes in demeanour were concerned the one Mr Lahey went through was blatantly obvious; his body stiffened, pushing away from the doorframe to stand at his one full height which, thankfully, was an inch or so shorter than Jordan. A cold look entered his blue-grey eyes behind the thin panes of glass and his lips thinned out as he clenched his jaw.

"He's out."

Jordan frowned.

There wasn't even a trace of concern in Mr Lahey's voice even though Jordan knew his son had been missing for a couple of weeks. In fact if anything the older man sounded annoyed.

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" Jordan pressed. "Or when he'll be back?"

"Nope."

"Mr Lahey…"

Jordan couldn't stop himself from dropping a hand to his weapon, still secured inside its holster, when the older man let out an angry growl and crushed the can of beer in his hand, beer spraying out of the hole at the top as he turned and threw it back inside his house.

"If I knew where the lazy little shit was don't you think I'd have dragged him home by now?"

Any doubts that Jordan had had upon arriving at the property faded away as he glimpsed his first sighting of the monster that lurked beneath the surface, as he caught sight of the pure contempt Mr Lahey felt for his poor teenage son and the explosive nature of his personality.

Not to mention his strength, if only against a can of beer, as well as his violent reactions.

 _Oh, yes,_ Jordan thought, _this man is perfectly capable of creating those healed fractures._

"Perhaps I could come in and wait for him to get home?"

The reaction to his suggestion, pitched using a purposely innocent tone, was instantaneous.

"No! And get the _fuck_ off of my property you filthy _fucking_ pig!"

Jordan flinched back just in time to save himself from a broken nose when the door he had been leaning towards was slammed shut with enough force to crack one of the six panes of glass which were incorporated into the top third of the door as a practical design feature.

 _Well_ , Jordan thought with a shake of his head, _that answers that then._

Turning away from the door he was about head back to his cruiser when he spotted something sticking out from one of the evergreen bushes which, unlike the others bushes and trees in the front garden given the time of year, was still covered in plenty of leaves and therefore could be considered a good hiding place. Or, alternatively, a place for things to get missed even if they'd been dropped accidentally which he suspected was more likely to be the case when he crouched down and retrieved the item from where it had been concealed.

The mystery item turned out to be a simple black leather wallet, fraying around the edges and cracking along the spine, and when he flipped it open he found himself looking at Isaac Lahey's high school library card, an old scrap of newspaper and a grand total of four dollars.

He waited until he was seated in his cruiser to unfold the scrap of newspaper.

It was an obituary for Camden Lahey, Isaac's older brother, and whilst the printed words were unblemished the photograph which had been published alongside them was smudged as though tears had fallen upon it on more than one occasion. He also noticed that it had been carefully folded in such a way that the creases managed to miss everything important.

It was a miracle that the damp hadn't gotten to it, given where he'd found it, and so he took great care to fold it up as it was meant to be and returned it to the safety of the wallet. The leather wallet, in turn, was placed inside an airtight plastic evidence bag for safekeeping.

Isaac had enough problems without losing something that was so obviously precious to him.

Heading back to the station he had just pulled his cruiser into its assigned bay on the parking lot and was in the process of exiting the vehicle when he was almost clipped by a painfully familiar older model blue jeep as it sped towards one of the visitor bays nearer the main entrance of the building. It was followed by a Toyota Prius, driven in a significantly less reckless manner, and a sleek black motorbike which parked in between the two other cars.

"Deputy Parrish!" Stiles called out as he literally tumbled out of the driver's side door of his jeep. Scott, his usual smile absent from his handsome young face, quickly climbed out the passenger side door before turning to help the young woman who had been riding in the back of the jeep to exit the vehicle. "How you doing? So…find anything stupid the Lahey's?"

"How did you…actually, no, I don't want to know," Jordan muttered as he noticed Lydia and Allison exiting the second car, both young women looking as perfect as ever. He felt the back of his neck heat up as Lydia smiled across at him; he didn't know what it was about the young woman that affected him so but affect him she did. It was inappropriate in so many ways, none the less because she was still in High School and he was an _Officer of the Law_ , but he had to admit to having developed a little bit of a crush on the redhead. "If you're here to try and get more information about the case then you're going to be disappointed."

Stiles scoffed, trying to pretend that that wasn't the reason behind their visit.

"We're just worried about Isaac," Allison murmured genuinely, moving out of the way for the two figures who had arrived by motorcycle. Jordan recognised their faces but couldn't instantly place a name to them. "We…I…we don't want him going home to an… _unpleasant situation_ when he eventually gets out of the hospital. Not after he saved my life like he did."

Yeah, Jordan could understand where she was coming from.

"We've only just begun our investigation so there is nothing to share at this moment in time, officially or unofficially," he told the group of teenagers who all seemed to deflate with disappointment. Lydia wrapped an arm around Allison's back. "But, rest assured, none of us want Isaac to return to an unsafe environment after what he's just been through. Ok?"

"I'd like to give a witness statement."

The announcement, coming from the figure who had been riding pillion on the motorbike, seemed to take them all by surprise as the entire group turned to stare at the Hawaiian boy.

"Danny?" Scott murmured with a deep frown. "What do you…?"

"When I used to hang out with Jackson at his house we'd hear Mr Lahey attacking Isaac," Danny explained, the words rushing out of him like blood from a wound. His friends stared at him in shock. "We could hear him screaming and shouting, things smashing. Isaac never shouted back but we…we could hear…and then it would always go quiet. We didn't…I…"

Jordan didn't miss the way that the handsome owner of the motorbike linked his fingers with Danny's, giving the shaking teens hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance and support.

"We tried telling Jacksons parents but they told us not to get involved. But…but I can't…"

"It's ok, Danny," Jordan murmured as several other hands moved to rest reassuringly on the tearful boys arms and shoulders. "How about we head inside and do this properly, yeah?"

Danny nodded.

"Can…can Ethan stay with me?"

"No problem," Jordan murmured, gesturing for the two teenagers to enter the station before turning to face the others. "We have to do this by the book, you understand?"

They nodded almost as though they were one sentient being.

"Good. Then you won't be offended when I tell you to stay out of the police investigation."

They nodded once more, significantly less enthusiastically, and this time Stiles had to be elbowed in the side to encourage the action which didn't exactly fill Jordan with confidence.

He didn't have time to worry about them, however, as he had a report to give to a rather stressed Sheriff and a statement to take from an understandably emotional teenage boy.

 **A/N** Sorry, this chapter ended up a lot shorter than I'd initially planned but it worked better for the storyline/storytelling that I split them up here rather than where I had originally intended to. As to the Danny/Ethan bit…I liked them too much and hated it when the show got rid of them so in my universe Danny admitted his knowledge of the werewolves earlier and accepted Ethan for what he was, prompting him to switch sides. Lol. I've messed with the timeline enough already so what's a little more, eh? Comments/Suggestions welcome. X


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer –** Big surprise, I know, but I don't own anything. Unless I end up creating some OC's which may or may not happened depending on how I feel but if so I do own them…

 **Summary –** In a small, run down house in the town of Beacon Hills lives a boy who is only human. A boy who has lost everything he ever loved. His mother. His brother. His father. No, his father wasn't dead but he certainly wasn't the same man he had once been. A boy who was in the right place at the right time and managed not only to save a life but to finally make some real friends and, you know, save the whole town. His name? Isaac. Isaac Lahey.

 **Things you need to know about this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE/CANON-DIVERGENT UNIVERSE I've created for the purposes of this story –** Isaac is still human; Derek never turned him in Season Two, he just turned Erica and Boyd. Mr Lahey is still alive; the Pack managed to stop Matt before he was able to force Jackson/the Kanima to kill the former swimming coach.

 **Warnings (will add more as required) –** Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Language, Alternate Universe/Canon-Divergence, Child Abuse, Medical Inaccuracies

 **~ Only Human ~**

 **~ Chapter Five ~**

Scott was in the process of raiding the fridge for a midnight snack when his phone let out a sharp beep, signalling the arrival of a text message. He froze, somewhat guiltily, holding the plate of leftover chicken a couple of inches above the shelf that he had been in the process of removing it from as he retrieved the electronic device from the back pocket of his jeans.

 **1 NEW MESSAGE FROM – MUM**

His eyes flickered guiltily to the plate of leftovers or, more specifically, to the yellow post-it note stuck to the top of the cellophane covering the plates contents – 'NOT FOR SNACKS!'

"…how does she do that?" he murmured to himself as he swiped his thumb over the screen to reveal the message, expecting a lecture about what was considered to be a suitable snack only to find something altogether different. All trace of his hunger vanished in a flash. "Oh."

 **Honey, Isaac has taken a turn for the worse. We're doing our best to keep the infection from reaching his heart but Dr Geyer doesn't think he'll survive the night. I'm sorry. X**

Scott felt as though someone had sucker-punched him in the stomach.

He all but dropped the plate back onto the shelf, slamming the fridge door closed as he hurried across to where he had kicked off his trainers in the front room. Pulling the battered looking shoes onto his sock clad feet he dialled Stiles' number with practiced ease, holding it to his ear with his shoulder as he set about securing the laces, one of which snapped in half.

"…damnit…"

"…'lo?"

"Stiles? It's Scott."

His best friend snorted sluggishly down the phone.

"I know, dude," Stiles muttered through a loud yawn. "Caller ID. What's up?"

Scott sighed heavily, "It's Isaac."

He could literally hear Stiles snapping awake, the sounds of things clattering loudly confirming the fact that his friend had once again fallen asleep at his computer desk.

"What?" Stiles demanded, grunting as something thudded loudly. "Ow. What about Isaac?"

"…my mum just text me…" Scott mumbled, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on one arm at a time, switching his phone from ear to ear as he did so. "He's not good. Dr Geyer doesn't…"

"What, Scott?" Stiles demanded even more sharply than before. "Dr Geyer doesn't _what_?"

"…think he'll survive through the night…"

Stiles swallowed audibly down the phone.

"I'm…I'm heading to the hospital now," Scott admitted as he grabbed his crash helmet and hurried out of the front door, hurrying down the steps and over to where he had tucked his motorbike against the side of the house so it was off of their drive. "Would you…I mean…"

"I'll meet you there."

Stiles hung up before Scott could even thank him.

As he settled himself on his motorbike, phone tucked safely in his jacket pocket, he paused.

Should he tell Allison?

Things between them had been a little strained ever since they'd broken up amidst all the chaos that was the Alpha Pack, the Darach and the Nogitsune. The fact that Scott still had feeling for her certainly didn't help matters, nor did his suspicions that she still had some sort of feelings for him. But it was because of Allison that he was so worried about Isaac, someone who he was ashamed to admit that he'd never really noticed before the night he had literally sacrificed himself to save Scott's ex-girlfriend, so perhaps she ought to know.

Biting his bottom lip he took out his phone once more, using his elbows to keep his helmet from rolling off of his thighs as he sent her a quick message explaining the situation, not going into too much detail as he was anxious to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

 **TO – ALLISON**

 **Isaac not gd. gonna hospital with Stiles. wl keep u updated. S**

That done he stored his phone safely in his pocket, jammed his crash helmet on his head, fired up the engine of his motorbike and set off for the hospital heedless of the speed limits.

Stiles, who's house was marginally closer to the hospital than Scott's, was just killing the jeeps engine when he arrived, his tires protesting loudly as he skidded to a halt beside the other vehicle. They said nothing to each other as Scott pulled off his helmet, throwing it into the back seat of the jeep for safe keeping as he killed the bikes engine and set it on its stand.

Moving as one they headed into the hospital, following the all too familiar corridors until they reached the ICU where they knew that Isaac was being cared for. Most of the rooms they passed were quiet, their occupants sound asleep at this time of night, but even Stiles who didn't have enhanced hearing like Scott did could hear the noise coming from Isaac's room long before they reached the correct hallway; cries, whimpers, choked of screams…

"Scott? Stiles?"

They turned as one to face his mum who was in the process of rounding a desk to confront the two of them, clipboard in hand, and ended up with their backs towards Isaac's room.

"What are you two doing…actually, no never mind," she cut herself off with a fond roll of her eyes as she stopped directly in front of her son and her pseudo-son. "I can't let you in."

A particularly sharp cry, filled with desperation, made them all jump.

"I can help with the pain," Scott pointed out, his voice trembling. "Mum, please…"

"Oh, honey, that's not pain," his mum corrected him, regret heavy in her voice as she reached out to cup his jaw in her free hand. "The infection is causing him to hallucinate."

"That's…"

A nurse exited Isaac's room with a tray of dirty bandages, her lips pursed in an attempt to hold back her tears, and whilst the door was open they could all hear Isaac's pleading voice,

"…Cam, don't go…don't go, Cam, don't leave me…don't leave me with him…please…"

"Hallucinations?" Stiles gulped as the door swung shut. "…that's not a good sign, is it?"

"No, sweetheart, it's not," she confirmed softly, reaching out with the hand holding the clipboard which came to rest against his arm as she squeezed his shoulder. Scott worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "We've done everything we can. Now we just have to wait and hope that the antibiotics can stop the infection from reaching his heart. Although…it's not looking good…not good at all which is why I messaged you, Scott. I didn't expect you boys to come in although perhaps I should have given your track record for impulsive decisions…"

"Please…" Scott pleaded with her softly, an unpleasant feeling settling deep in his stomach. Their eyes, almost identical in colour, met and held. "Please, mum, we… _I_ need to see him…"

After a long moment she let out a deep sigh and nodded,

"Just for five minutes, mind you."

Neither teen was prepared for the sight that met them as they stepped through the door, stumbling to a halt at the foot of the bed as Scott's mum followed them into the sterilised room. Isaac's badly burned body had been strapped down to the bed with thick black velcro straps rather than the padded cuffs Scott had seen used on patients before; one across his chest which also trapped his upper arms to his sides, one across his hips and one across his knees. They hadn't applied the one that would secure his ankles for fairly obvious reasons.

"W-Why is he…?"

Isaac himself unwittingly answered his half-asked question by thrashing wildly all of a sudden, his body arching up and straining against the thick black straps as he screamed.

" _Stop! No!_ Dad…stop…please…I'll do better…I'll do better...I promise… _please_ …"

Stiles gasped sharply, the colour draining from his face,

"… _shit_ …"

A pair of fevered blue eyes snapped across to him.

"Cam?" Isaac whimpered, reaching out with his burned arm as best as he could, lifting his head and shoulders up as much as the strap across his chest would allow. "Cam…don't go…"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but that's not Cam," the familiar soothing voice of his mother drew Scott's attention away from the piercing blue eyes and across to where his mum had moved to stand strong the head of the boys bed, gently urging him to lie back down with her hand on his shoulders. Once he was reclining against the pillows once again she carefully stroked the clammy skin of his face, minding the burns, until he began to calm. "That's it. That's it."

They watched as Isaac gazed up set her for a long moment, tears pooling in his eyes.

"M-Mummy?"

He sounded painfully young and none of them could hold back their gasps of sympathy.

"…is that you?" Isaac pressed on, pleading with everything that he had as he twisted slightly so that he could stare up at the owner of the hand stroking his face. "Mummy, I'm scared…"

And it was at this point that an idea popped into Scott's head, one that he was surprised hadn't appeared as soon as he'd heard that Allison's saviour had taken a turn for the worse.

 _The Bite._

Something must have shown on his face because Stiles reached out to touch his arm.

"Scott?" his best friend murmured with one of his trademark looks. "What is it?"

Scott glanced back and forth between his friend and the boy slowly dying on the bed.

His mum, still soothing her whimpering patient, frowned across at him.

"Scott?"

"The Bite," he blurted out. "I could give him the Bite."

Silence, broken only by Isaac's pitiful whimpers, was his only response.

"Werewolves have advanced healing," he pressed on, thinking back to the countless injuries he had that had vanished if not immediately then overnight. "If I gave him The Bite he would have a better chance of fighting off the infection, of recovering from the burns…"

Stiles blinked at him for a long moment before reminding him that,

"People die from the bite, Scott."

"He's dying anyway, Stiles. Look at him," Scott countered, moving across to stand on Isaac's unburned side. He paused a moment before hesitantly reaching out touch Isaac's trembling shoulder. "Come on, we have to try _something_. He saved Allison. We can't just let him die."

"But won't it change you, too?" Stiles pointed out, following Scott across the room. He came to a halt in line with the cast encasing Isaac's unburned wrist, the one which had initially alerted them to his years of abuse. "You'll stop being a _True Alpha_ if you turn someone."

"I don't care," Scott responded without hesitation as he carefully pulled Isaac's hospital gown aside to reveal the lightly tanned skin of his shoulder. "We have to do _something_."

Stiles let out a deep sigh but moved out of his way so that he could lean down, shifting into his werewolf form and baring his deadly fangs against Isaac's skin. He could feel his mum's gaze upon him and glanced across at her with his vivid red eyes, pausing at the last moment.

"Do it," she finally ordered with a sharp nod. "It's probably the only chance he's got."

Placing one hand on Isaac's chest to hold him still Scott took a deep, calming breath and then carefully pierced the unblemished flesh with the deadly points of his fangs. Isaac let out a startled cry of pain, tears falling from his wide blue eyes before they fluttered shut.

Scott withdrew his fangs, straightening up to look down stairs the unconscious boy.

"Now we just have to wait and see…"

 **A/N** This took a slightly different turn than I had originally planned but never mind – it still ended the same way I had always planned for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. X


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